


The One Where Stiles Thinks Derek is a Drug Lord (and he kind of is)

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, delivery boy stiles, drug dealer derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:40:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gapes. "You're not just A drug lord, you're THE Drug Lord! You're the only major dealer in Beacon County that they haven't caught yet!"</p><p>"The Beacon Hills Drug Lord is a stupid nickname," Derek mutters.</p><p>Derek's the drug lord his dad has been looking for. Derek Hale, who plays bingo with the ladies at the senior center on Wednesdays. Derek Hale, who volunteers at the animal shelter. Derek Hale, who Stiles has had the most out of control crush on for years. Derek. Hale.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Stiles in an underpaid, overworked delivery boy, and Derek is just the worst drug dealer ever.</p><p>From the prompt: "You're a drug lord and I think I've just walked into your drug den" au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Stiles Thinks Derek is a Drug Lord (and he kind of is)

**Author's Note:**

> So! I'm working on this huge Sterek piece that was supposed to be like a thousand words but has gotten wildly out of control, and seriously need a beta reader. So, if someone wants to be a serious homie and look it over, let me know!
> 
> From [this prompt](http://cup-of-hot-coffee.tumblr.com/post/118599158660/job-aus).

Being a delivery boy fucking sucks. Stiles knew that when he'd applied, but he'd needed the money, school is expensive. But still. Being a delivery boy fucking sucks. He's 22, he's supposed to be getting trashed and waking up in strangers' bathtubs, but instead, it's Friday night and he's delivering sandwiches.

The only bright spot is he's on this last delivery of the night, and it's to the hottest man he's ever met, Christ on a cracker. Stiles always loses most of his higher brain function as soon as he sees Derek. Stiles braces himself and knocks on the door of the man that has become the star in most of his masturbatory fantasies. Okay, all of them. 

The heavy metal door to Derek's loft slides open, revealing Derek with day-old scruff, wearing a soft-looking red Henley and dark sweats, his bare toes sticking out from the bottom of the pants, and Stiles fights the urge to climb him like a tree.

Derek clearing his throat prompts Stiles to drag his eyes up to Derek's face, flushing hotly as he realizes he's been caught staring. But Derek just smiles, looking somewhat amused, and opens the loft's door wider.

"Come in, I have to find my wallet," Derek says. He guides Stiles into the living room, his hand a gentle pressure on Stiles' lower back and Stiles is sure he's about to spontaneously combust. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

Derek disappears deeper into the loft and Stiles flounders for a moment, extremely tempted to go snooping, but manages to rein himself in and flop gracelessly onto the couch.

"Oh my god," he groans, sinking into the soft leather. "Oh my god, this is heaven. This is actually heaven."

Stiles shifts, trying to scooch farther into the couch, kicking his feet out for leverage, and his shin slams into the coffee table.

"Fuck! Christ, ow!" Stiles yowls, jerking up just in time to see an expensive-looking porcelain vase teeter on the edge of the table. He lunges forward, throwing himself onto the coffee table. The tips of his fingers brush the large vase right as it tilts over the side, shattering as it hits the ground.

Stiles stares in horror.

"Oh my god, that was probably expensive, fuck," Stiles hisses. Running around the table, he drops to his knees next to the chunks of porcelain, then freezes when he hears Derek's footsteps. He looks up guiltily to see Derek, expression horrified, staring down at the broken vase.

"Derek, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I swear, I'll replace it, I'll pay you whatever it's worth, I -" Stiles cuts himself off, really looking at the mess at his feet. Mixed in with the jagged, broken pieces are pills. Hundreds of pills in different shapes, sizes, and colors. Stiles looks up at Derek, eyes wide.

"Um," Derek says meekly, looking mildly panicked.

"It's you!" Stiles yells. "You're the Beacon Hills Drug Lord! Oh my god, my dad's been looking for you for years!"

Derek flinches, but hisses back, "I am not a drug lord, Stiles, keep your voice down!"

"Not _a_ drug lord, _the_ Drug Lord! You're the only major dealer in Beacon County that they haven't caught yet!"

"The Beacon Hills Drug Lord is a stupid nickname," Derek mutters.

"Really, that's what you're focusing on? There are thousands of dollars worth of pills on your living room floor, and you're upset about the nickname the media gave you?!" Stiles cries hysterically.

Derek's the drug lord his dad has been looking for. Derek Hale, who plays bingo with the ladies at the senior center on Wednesdays. Derek Hale, who volunteers at the animal shelter. Derek Hale, who Stiles has had the most out of control crush on for _years_. Derek. Hale.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Derek mutters, looking down at the mess.

"Not as - drug dealer, Derek! There's no way to make that sound better!"

"I'm not selling to kids or addicts," Derek says, a little too huffily, in Stiles' opinion, for someone who was a _drug dealer_.

"You don't know that! Anyone could pretend to not have an addiction problem!" Stiles shouts. "Derek, what were you thinking? You have to stop."

Derek looks up then, anger in his eyes for the first time. "No."

"No? Derek, the money isn't worth the jail time."

"I'm not doing it for the money. I don't charge them anything."

Stiles looks at him in disbelief. "Wow, you are just the worst drug lord ever."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Not a drug lord," he says. "I don't - it's not - Mable Brown has cancer."

"Mable...your bingo partner?"

Derek nods. "Her insurance won't cover the pain medication and she was suffering," Derek says. "So, I got them for her. I don't make her _pay_." Derek sounds affronted that Stiles would even think that.

Stiles gapes. "You're buying drugs for Mable?"

"It started with Mable," Derek says, shifting uncomfortably. "But Richard Holmes can't afford his son's Xanax, Erica Reyes' insurance only pays for some of her epilepsy medication, and Danielle Hart's parents made her cancel her birth control and it just kind of...spiraled."

"Oh my god, what are you doing to me?" Stiles groans, reaching over and weakly punching Derek in the shoulder. "You're just the sweetest fucking drug fairy godmother ever, god."

Derek just watches, eyebrows slightly raised as Stiles paces back and forth, muttering to himself and running a hand over his face. Because of course rich-ass Derek of the Hale family didn't need to sell drugs for money, nope, instead he's being a drug-related Good Samaritan.

"Okay, okay so you aren't the Beacon Hills Drug Lord," Stiles says.

"No, Stiles," Derek says with an eye roll. "Probably their best client, though."

"You - oh my god, okay. This is what you're going to do. You're going to call in an anonymous tip about who he or she is, so you stay out of the whole fallout," Stiles says. "Okay, so we need to get to a payphone..."

"No."

Stiles blinks at Derek. "No?"

"No," Derek says firmly, jaw clenching. "I'm not going to leave these people high and dry."

"Yeah, but they aren't just selling to you, Derek! They're selling heroin and meth! Kids are overdosing!"

Derek's hard glare falters, leaving him looking torn. "They are?" he asks softly.

" _Yes_ ," Stiles says. "Why do you think my dad is trying so hard to bring them in?"

Derek shrugs. "It's his job."

"Well, yeah." Stiles has to concede that point.

Derek sighs and sits on the couch, resting his head in his hands and looking miserable. "I can't just let them suffer," he says softly and Stiles' heart breaks just a little bit. After a second of hesitation, Stiles lowers himself next to Derek and lightly rests a hand on the other man's shoulder. When Derek doesn't shy away from him, Stiles' squeezes his shoulder gently in what he hopes is a comforting way (he's never been particularly good at being mindful of people's feelings).

"If it's just a matter of their insurance not paying for it, why don't you just pay the doctor or pharmacy the difference?" Stiles asks. Derek looks at him, expression blank. "Oh my god, why didn't you do that first? Why was your first thought to go to a dealer?!"

"Because Peter's a bad influence," Derek mutters. "What about the people who can't go to the doctor or their parents won't let them go, like Danielle?"

"I...know some sketchy people. I'll get you in touch with a black market pharmaceutical girl, who _doesn't_ sell heroin, and see what she can get her hands on, okay?" Stiles asks. 

Derek still looks torn. "Stiles..."

"No, listen. We go to the shitty gas station on 5th, the one with no security cameras, make an anonymous call to the Sheriff's station, then haul ass in that fancy-ass Camaro to Frankie's on the other side of Beacon Hills, bam, the Sheriff's kid as an alibi, then the bad guy is off the street and you can still help old ladies and teens with shitty parents," Stiles says. "Okay?"

Derek looks at him blankly for long enough that Stiles is about to ask if he has something on his face when Derek asks, "Did you just ask me on a date _and_ plan it around an anonymous police tip?"

Stiles flushes bright red, skin heating from his cheeks all the way down his neck. 

"No! Well, I mean, kind of? Technically yes," Stiles says, wincing. "Never mind. We'll, uh, find you another alibi, we'll go grocery shopping, whatever, anything other than this crushing humiliation, yeah? Yeah, let's do that, come on, let's go." Stiles starts marching toward to loft's door.

Derek's hand shoots out, fingers wrapping gently, but firmly, around Stiles' wrist. Stiles, unsure what to do, just stares until Derek blushes slightly, but he still doesn't take his hand off Stiles.

"That'd be okay, um, going on a date," Derek says and Stiles wants to melt at the way the tips of his ears go red.

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, slowly starting to grin.

Derek steps closer, until there’s barely any space between their bodies, and slides his hand down Stiles’ arm until he can twine their fingers together. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, then he’s kissing Stiles. It’s soft and chaste and so unbearably sweet that Stiles thinks he may actually cry.

“Wow,” Stiles says when Derek pulls away. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at how breathy his voice is. “Yeah, wow.”

Derek grins and steps back, tugging Stiles to the door by his hand.

“Come on, we have a police tip to make and a date to enjoy,” Derek says. “And when we get back, maybe I can see how far down that blush goes.”

Derek Hale is so supremely unfair.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my [main blog](http://www.femmmefatalist.tumblr.com/).


End file.
